The Boleyn Deceit (39 page)

Robert passed easily through the camp, though not quite without comment. The encampment was orderly and sentries were posted to challenge. Robert got them through it all, making vulgar comments about camp women and laundry maids.

They slid sideways through the camp to the least populated area, where the tents and men thinned out and the sentries were far between. Robert pulled her close and murmured, “Now I go back, rather loudly and possibly drunkenly, while you slip into the night. Follow the edge of the village until you can’t see the lights from this camp any longer, then you’ll find the road leading out from between the old priory ruins. William’s camp is two miles east of here. Once you’re safely out of sight, take that coif off your head so William’s guards can see your hair. He’d be miffed if his own men shot you on your way to him.”

“Do you have a message for the king?”

“Of surrender, you mean? Tell him that if I have not brought my father to open surrender by nightfall tomorrow, I will leave Dudley badges in the priory ruins that will get him and Dominic and a handful of others through the camp the way we just came. I will leave the postern door unbarred to them if I must.”

“I’ll tell him.”

He nodded and turned away.

“Robert,” she called softly. “Have you any message for Elizabeth?”

“I think the time has long passed for that, don’t you? Get on your way, Minuette.”

It took forever to creep her way along the edges of the village and then to find the road. She gladly discarded the coif as soon as she could, hoping Robert was right and the wan moonlight would be enough to gleam on her bright hair. She was starting to panic, almost certain that she had gotten turned round and headed off on some other road (perhaps leading to Wales) when she heard the whicker of horses before her.

The first sentries were upon her before she knew it. They were wary, of course, for what were they to make of a solitary woman wandering into the king’s camp? She gladly gave herself into the
charge of one of them, who escorted her the remainder of the way. They passed a dozen more sentries before she saw firelight illuminating the gold lions on William’s standard.

Before they could pass her along the chain of command, to more men who might not know her, she said, “My name is Genevieve Wyatt. If you could wake Lord Exeter, he will confirm my identity.”

The sentry shot her a sharp look, but one of the guards outside William’s tent intervened. “I’ll watch her,” he told the sentry. “Fetch Lord Exeter.”

She was glad no one wanted to question her just yet, and equally glad they didn’t insist on waking William first. And when she saw Dominic break into a run when he saw her, she was glad she had the excuse of being a weak female escaped from a horrid situation so that she might break down in tears and let him enfold her in his arms.

Robert was prepared for nearly anything when he slipped back into Dudley Castle through the postern door: from the best case, in which the guard had taken advantage of Robert’s dismissal and was still absent from Minuette’s now empty room, to the worst case, in which the Sharrington range was ablaze with lights and men searching top to bottom for their missing prisoner.

As with most things in life, the truth was somewhere in the middle. Robert went directly to his father’s study and was not surprised to find his father waiting for him.

“You let her go,” his father said. Robert
was
surprised at the lack of anger in his father’s voice; if anything, he sounded sorrowful. “What else have you promised the king you would do?”

“Get you to surrender.”

Northumberland snorted, but Robert could not miss the new hollows in his cheeks and the dark smudges beneath his eyes. The
study was icy despite the blazing fire, and the Duke of Northumberland resembled a warhorse approaching the limit of his strength. “I suppose you think surrender is the only option left now that my last hostage is flown.”

He had been trying to persuade his father to reason for three days without success. Now Robert would have to be blunt. “No hostage could have given you what you wished, Father. I had word at Kenilworth just before Lord Exeter arrested me—Guildford is dead. He was executed the day after the trial.”

Robert knew he was often careless of other people’s feelings—women, especially—but he had never been deliberately cruel. As he watched the light go out of his father’s eyes, he wished he could get his hands on the man behind all this pain. His father had been reckless and angry and intemperate—but George Boleyn had taken every careless act by the Duke of Northumberland and twisted it back upon him fourfold.

If he hadn’t thought it would break what little remained of his father’s heart, Robert would have told him all that he himself had done at Lord Rochford’s bidding. But though Robert had disappointed his father before this, he could not damn himself fully.

The best he could do was get his father to surrender into the king’s hands without bloodshed. As long as Dominic stood with William, there would be someone with wisdom and balance to get at the whole truth. Robert would not let his father condemn himself utterly without at least attempting to ease the blow.

His father slumped at his desk in silence, staring at his clasped hands. Robert held his tongue for as long he dared before saying, “Father, you have other sons—and daughters, as well. Do you want us all tainted? Will you ride into battle and make yourself a rebel while Mother weeps at your death?”

What most people missed about John Dudley, Robert thought, was his humility. He had it—though it wasn’t often in evidence—but
one had only to see him with his family to know that his love for them was far greater than his ambition. Robert knew he had won; now he was just waiting for his father to speak.

At long last his father raised his head. “Send your mother to me. At first light I will tell the troops to disperse and deliver myself to the king.”

There were many things Robert wanted to say—
I’m sorry for Guildford, I’ll do everything I can to see you redeemed, forgive me
—but through the sudden tightness in his throat all he could manage was, “Trust me, Father. I’ll do everything in my power to return you home soon.”

Even if he had to bring down the Chancellor of England in the bargain.

D
OMINIC COULDN
’
T TAKE
his eyes off Minuette. Dressed in peasant clothing and with a bruised look about her eyes as though she’d been sleepless for days, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

After that first startled moment of being woken in the dead of night, followed by the sweet relief of holding her close, Dominic had himself woken William and sent for Elizabeth to join them. She was still in the camp because she had doggedly refused to leave. “Not until Minuette is safe,” she had insisted, and no one dared defy her. Now the four of them sat together in William’s tent as Minuette related her story.

William held her hand, stroking it as she told them of how Robert had led her out of the castle and through the encampment surrounding the motte.

“Did they strike you as men ready to fight?” Dominic asked.

“They struck me as men I didn’t want to see my face,” she replied. “I don’t know what a force ready to fight looks like.”

“What about Robert?” William interrupted. “What did he say about his father?”

“He said that if he has not brought Northumberland to surrender by nightfall tomorrow, he will leave the postern gate I
came through unbarred and Dudley badges cached to get a handful of you through the camp.”

Dominic and William shared a considering glance. That was further than Dominic had thought Robert would take it. Persuading his father to wisdom was one thing—opening a back door to an enemy force was pure betrayal. “Were we wrong about Robert’s involvement in his father’s plots?” Dominic asked.

“When I spoke with him, Robert all but admitted to Alyce de Clare. Although …” Minuette hesitated. “He did seem genuinely surprised to find that someone tried to poison me.”

“It’s irrelevant,” Elizabeth broke in. “All that matters is getting Northumberland out of that castle without bloodshed. If Robert can bring that about, then he’s useful. For now.”

Dominic wondered how much that apparent indifference cost her. She had left court in the latter part of August and he had not seen her again until one month later, when Northumberland released her. In those weeks, Elizabeth had aged; though her beauty was untouched, her spirit was darker. But then again, it had always been Robert who had brought out the lighthearted side of her.

“Right.” William nodded. “Elizabeth, take Minuette to your tent. As soon as the sun rises, the two of you will ride out.”

“No,” Elizabeth said. “Not until it’s over.”

“It is over. You are both safe now.”

“I’m not leaving until Northumberland is in your hands.”

“This is nothing to do with you. If you hadn’t been so stubborn and secretive, you’d never have been caught in this mess at all!”

“And that’s why I’m staying!” Elizabeth shouted back. The siblings were on their feet, glaring at each other. Dominic felt the brush of Minuette’s fingertips against his. He nearly grasped her hand, but William’s distraction wouldn’t last forever.

Elizabeth’s voice cracked once before she got it under control. “Northumberland might never have taken this stand if I hadn’t made it easy for him. There are women and children in that castle who do not deserve to be caught between the two of you. I am staying until the innocent are safe and Northumberland is in your hands.”

“Are you sure you’re not staying to plead for Robert?”

“I am finished pleading for Robert Dudley.”

William scowled and shook his head, but said grudgingly, “Fine. But only because I expect the rest of my troops tomorrow. The morning after the soldiers arrive, you and Minuette are on your way no matter how matters at the castle stand.”

But as dawn broke just a few hours later, ushering in a misty, chilly morning, one of William’s sentries intercepted a rider from Dudley Castle, carrying a white banner of surrender.

William and Dominic rode to the castle with an impressive contingent of royal guards and heavy cavalry. More out of respect for Northumberland’s dignity than to intimidate him, Dominic thought. William had his father’s gift for merciful symbolism once he’d established his authority. Northumberland waited outside the Triple Gate surrounded by three of his sons: Robert, Ambrose, and Henry. The duke knelt before William. In a clear, carrying voice, he submitted himself to “the sovereign it is my good pleasure to serve in the name of God and my own conscience.”

Northumberland and his sons were arrested. The women and children were allowed to remain at Dudley Castle under royal control. William had named the Earl of Arundel temporary governor of Northumberland’s estates. Very temporary, Dominic thought. He didn’t know if William was looking forward more to executing the duke or confiscating his lands and wealth.

Robert, uncharacteristically, was completely silent save for
one question. “Is Lord Rochford marching with your troops or does he remain in London?”

William studied him for a minute before replying. “Rochford’s in London. As Lord Chancellor, he will oversee your reception at the Tower.”

And just like that, it was over. Dominic spurred his horse ahead of the rest, to see Elizabeth and Minuette on their way before the prisoners were brought into camp.

Both women were dressed for riding in the princess’s clothing that Northumberland had sent to the camp upon Elizabeth’s release. Meant for riding and hunting, the gowns were less elaborate than the typical court wardrobe: dressed so similarly, Elizabeth in red and Minuette in blue, they almost looked as though they could be sisters.

“It’s done,” Dominic informed them tersely. “William wants you away before the prisoners get here.”

Elizabeth nodded once in acknowledgment, then turned away to mount her horse. The women had an escort of one hundred armed men—no chance of being waylaid or changing their minds along the way. Elizabeth was returning to court. But Minuette had persuaded William to let her go to Wynfield.

As Dominic moved to help her mount, she asked appealingly, “You will come, won’t you?”

“It’s not wise.”

“I don’t want to be wise any longer. I want to be honest. Come to Wynfield and we’ll decide how to tell William the truth.”

The truth
 … “I’ll come.”

Minuette tried to persuade Elizabeth to stay at Wynfield with her for at least one night. But Elizabeth declined. She was not in a companionable mood, and as gentle and perceptive as her friend
was, Elizabeth was far too raw to even touch on the subject of Robert. They rode next to each other in heavy silence the last hour before their roads would separate, and finally Elizabeth asked the question that had weighed on her. “Did he kill Alyce?”

Elizabeth had not been able to get the dead woman’s face out of her head for a week now. Although she’d hardly paid any attention to Alyce de Clare while the woman was alive, they had crossed paths on the very night of Alyce’s death. I should have seen it then, Elizabeth thought heavily.
The way she looked at Robert, her insolence in acknowledging me, the hint of pity in her voice … I should have known she’d been Robert’s mistress.